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THE WILL AND THE AFFECTIONS. 

A 

SERMON 

PREPARED FOR THE ORDINATION 



MR. RICHARD PIKE, 

OVER THE 

THIRD RELIGIOUS SOCIETY IN DORCHESTER, MASS. 
FEBRUARY 8, 18*3. 

By ANDREW P. PEABODY, 

PASTOR OF THE SOUTH CHURCH, PORTSMOUTH, STEW HAMPSHIRE 



PUBLISHED BY REQUEST OF THE SOCIETY, 



BOSTON: 

DUTTON AND WENTWORTH's PRINTING HOUSE. 



1843, 



5ft 



The delivery of this Sermon was prevented by unavoidable causes 
of detention on the Eastern Rail-road. Rev. Mr. Lothrop, of Boston, 
kindly consented to preach on the occasion ; but has declined giving a 
copy of his Sermon for publication. The manuscript of this Sermon 
is yielded for the press, with unfeigned reluctance, at the urgent and 
repeated request of the Committee of the Society. 

Rev. Mr. Whitman was prevented by the same causes from deliv- 
ering the Charge ; and his place in the ordination services was supplied 
by Rev. Mr. Gannett, of Boston. 



SERM O N . 



PHILIPPIANS IV. 13. 

"I CAN DO ALL THINGS THROUGH CHRIST WHICH STRENGTHENETH ME." 

Our views of the extent of human ability necessarily 
lie at the basis of our theology. We look to religion to 
do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. We regard 
religion as the complement of human nature, — as that, 
which is necessary to finish the human temple in undy- 
ing perfectness and beauty. What seems to us wanting 
in the temple as it stands, we seek to supply from records 
or sources of religious faith. Hence, if we think too 
meanly of man's nature and native ability, we lumber 
our theology with excessive and superfluous doctrines. 
If, on the other hand, we in anywise over-estimate man's 
nature and ability, in that same proportion our theology 
becomes defective and meagre, our respect for revelation 
declines, and our sense of the need and worth of religion 
fades away. 

Now two opposite views, equally erroneous, as it seems 
to me, have for many centuries divided the christian 
world, leaving but few on the middle ground of truth and 



soundness. The motto of the one party has been. " I can 
do nothing," — that of the other, " I can do all things." 
On the one hand, man's utter moral inability, on the 
other, the unlimited freedom of the human will, has been 
maintained and defended. The former was the reigning 
heresy from Augustine till a century after the Reforma- 
tion ; the latter has been gradually supplanting it in 
Protestant Christendom. Neither is the doctrine of con- 
sciousness or experience; neither is the doctrine of the 
Scriptures or of the Primitive Church. But the confes- 
sion of genuine christian experience, the testimony of the 
purest and best of all times, the voice of martyrs, confes- 
sors and apostles, is, " I can of mine own self do nothing : 
but I can do all things through Christ which strength- 
ened me." 

I ask your attention to the bearing upon christian 
theology of these several views of human nature. I hope, 
by means of this discussion, to illustrate the true design 
and office of the christian ministry, and thus to meet the 
demands of the occasion, which has called us together. 

The doctrine of man's moral inability need not detain 
us long ; for we are probably in no danger of embracing 
it, and those sects of Christians that have adhered to it 
are fast changing their ground, and, as men generally 
vibrate from one extreme to another, will, it is to be fear- 
ed, make trial of the shallowness of rationalism, before 
they settle upon a sufficient and satisfying faith. 

A belief in man's utter moral inability leads to the 
adoption of arbitrary schemes of redemption, in which 
man is represented as passive, and as having the whole 
work done for him, instead of " working out his own sal- 
vation with fear and trembling." In the dark ages, and 
in the Roman Church, man's salvation was professedly 
wrought out by ceremonies and outward ordinances, 
which were supposed, not to owe their efficacy to the 



christian faith or purpose of him who used them, but to 
possess an intrinsic, talismanic virtue, affixing the signa- 
ture of complete redemption to those who complied with 
them, without reference to character. The rites of the 
Church labelled a certain portion of mankind for heaven : 
and all, of whatever spirit, who would apply, might be 
labelled, while those, who were not thus labelled, were 
suffered to sink into perdition. We have indeed read and 
heard much of the Romish doctrine of human merit, and 
of those possessed of merit to such a superabundant de- 
gree, as to cancel other sins and save other souls besides 
their own. But the merit of the Romish Church is ritual> 
not moral merit. Merit appertains to him, who, by rigid 
compliance with the rites of the Church, has procured 
himself to be labelled as a candidate for heaven; and 
those, whose superfluous merits go into the treasury of 
the Church, gain the power of saving other souls by 
abounding, not in good works, but in masses, fasts, pen- 
ances and pilgrimages, and thus multiplying labels, which 
the Church, in the plenitude of her authority, may affix 
to those, whose ritual merit falls short of the prescribed 
standard. 

In more enlightened ages, and in the Reformed Church, 
the idea of man's moral inability has found expression in 
the doctrines of predestination, sovereign, constraining 
grace, and arbitrary election, — a system, according to 
which some are made "vessels of wrath," and others 
" vessels of mercy," without reference to their moral ef- 
forts or dispositions, or, to borrow its own technical 
phraseology, " without foresight of faith or good works," 
all that is good in the human heart or character resulting 
from God's arbitrary decree. 

From the bosom of the Reformed Church, reposing in 
the paralytic slumber induced by a religious system, 
which left the human soul nothing to do, sprang Armin- 



8 



ianism, which took a bold leap to the opposite extreme of 
doctrine, maintaining the entire freedom of the human 
will in every separate effort of volition, the unlimited 
power of choice in every instance, so that all that a man 
needs, in order to do right, is to have the right way set 
before him, and fortified by sufficient sanctions. Ac- 
cording to this theory, all that we need in religion is a 
law clearly set forth, and sanctions of reward and pun- 
ishment fully defined. Hence those representations of 
Christianity, which regard it as addressed solely to the 
reason, as exhibiting the tendencies of different actions 
and courses of conduct, and the certainty of a righteous 
retribution, and then leaving man to make free choice 
for himself. This is a very partial and low view of Chris- 
tianity, and one, which makes a large portion of its re- 
cords unessential and worthless. It assigns no place or 
office to the paternal character of God, to the beauty of 
holiness in the Saviour's life, to the cross or the interces- 
sion of Jesus. If law and its sanctions are all that man 
needs, these might as well have been uttered by a voice 
from heaven, as drawn out in the divine life and sealed 
by the reconciling blood of Christ, and such a gospel as 
might have been promulgated amidst the thunders of a 
second Sinai, would have been not one whit less precious 
than that which flowed from a suffering Redeemer. 

Moreover, the promulgation of law and its sanctions is 
not a distinctive office of Christianity, but one, which it 
performs in common with the light of nature, the arrange- 
ments of providence, and the records of human history 
and experience; and, though the perfect law comes to us 
through Jesus alone, it returns to us from nature and the 
human heart with so clear, prolonged and manifold an 
echo, that we are in danger of mistaking the echo for the 
voice that first spake. With these low views then of the 
office of Christianity, we can hardly help losing our pecu- 



v) 



iiar and distinctive reverence for it. We easily learn to 
look upon it as a mere republication or codification of the 
law and religion of nature, not above the scope of human 
genius, and therefore not needing the marvellous appara- 
tus of miracle and prophecy to establish and authenticate 
it. The next step, (and an obvious and natural one,) in 
this rationalizing process is to regard the miraculous por- 
tions of the gospel narrative, and the more than human 
beauty and glory that rested upon Jesus, as the mere my- 
thological drapery, in which men's superstitious fancies 
have wrapped the simple form of truth. The way is now 
open for the arrogant rejection of a positive faith, and the 
bold and scornful denial of that resurrection, of which the 
great apostle's testimony was : "If Christ be not risen, then 
is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain ; yea, and 
we are found false witnesses of God." And think not 
that a theology thus destructive can long retain even a 
nominal connexion with the revealed word. The Bible 
is as a millstone about its neck, impedes its freedom, 
checks its progress, and must be thrown away as both 
useless and cumbersome. 

Such has in fact been the degenerate path of Arminian 
theology. The last step alone remains to be taken; and 
would to God that it were even now taken, and the Bible 
frankly, honestly, and in express terms, rejected by those, 
who can cast ridicule and scorn upon its most touching 
and sacred pages ! 

Many of us have felt and deplored the rationalistic ten- 
dency of theology among our clergy and churches. It 
has its origin in a false philosophy of the human will. 
We have not fully perceived and felt the want, the need, 
the infirmity of man; and therefore have had inadequate 
ideas of the richness and perfectness of the gospel dispen- 
sation. The word of God through his prophet has been 
verified in us: "They have healed the hurt of the daugh- 
2 



10 



ter of my people slightly, saying, Peace, peace; when there 
is no peace. " And this has been because we have had no 
idea of the extent or depth of "the hurt. " We have had 
vague and superficial notions of the disease of sin; and 
have therefore failed to discern and apply its true and 
sufficient remedy. Our ignorance of the wound has left 
much of the balm in Gilead ungathered, many of the 
functions of the great Physician unrecognized. For there 
is a deeper moral disease than ignorance or indifference. 
We may know our duty, may see it written before us 
with its eternal sanctions in letters of flame, nay, may 
feel most thrillingly the curse and penalty of violated 
law; and yet we may lack power to keep the law. 
There is an infirmity of the will, which, more than aught 
else, needs the aid of religion and the strength of Christ, 
and which it is Christ's peculiar mission to heal. It has 
been the vicious defect of Arminian theology, to overlook 
this infirmity of the will, which is at once a doctrine of 
scripture, and a fact in the uniform experience and ob- 
servation of mankind. 

It is a doctrine constantly recognized in scripture. Je- 
sus says, "No man can come to me, except the Father, 
which hath sent me, draw him." St. Paul, in a passage 
in which he describes the conscious experience of every 
aspirant for moral goodness, says: "I find then a law, 
that, when I would do good, evil is present with me ; for 
I delight in the law of God after the inward man, but I 
see another law in my members, warring against the law 
of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of 
sin which is in my members." In the same connexion, 
he tells the disciples at Rome, that Christ came, not 
simply to reveal or confirm the law, but to do for man, 
"what the law could not do, in that it was weak through 
the flesh." The same apostle, in bidding his converts to 
work out their own salvation, assures them: " It is God 



II 



which worketh in you, both to will and to do of his good 
pleasure." 

But we learn the infirmity of the human will not from 
the revealed word alone. The word is nigh us, in our 
mouths, and in our hearts. Unrecognized as it has been 
in our theology, it enters into the common speech, and 
forms a part of the remembered experience of all of us. 

Let us look at some of the indications of this infirmity 
of the will. Let us then ascertain in what human free- 
dom actually consists. The inquiry will lend us essential 
aid in fixing our views of christian theology, and in 
showing us, who are ministers of the word, how we may 
preach a gospel, which may meet men's wants and save 
their souls. 

I remember once talking with a person, who had hardly 
any other bad habit, on the habit of sarcastic and con- 
temptuous speech; and the reply was: "I know that it 
is wrong to talk thus, — I hardly ever say any thing of 
the kind without knowing at the time that it is wrong; 
but I enjoy it, and, when an occasion comes in my way 
for holding any one up to ridicule, I feel that I have not 
the command of my own will, — it is not in my power to 
resist the temptation." I quote this confession as a speci- 
men of the kind of confession, which almost every one of 
us would be constrained to make with regard to his easily 
besetting sins. The man, who in any way overreaches or 
defrauds his neighbor, knows his guilt and its penalty, 
and yet lacks energy of will to refrain from it. The 
wanton slanderer knows that he is at once dealing about 
him, and kindling in his own spirit, the very fire of hell ; 
yet he cannot will to quench it. He, on whose unmiti- 
gated wrath the sun, and many, many suns go down, 
even if his sin were at first sudden and without conscious- 
ness of guilt, has made it by continuance a sin of reflection 
and of choice, from which his will cannot release itself. 



12 



He, who is now the bond-slave of appetite, became so 
perhaps without being at the outset aware of his guilt; 
but soon his vicious indulgences grew so gross, that he 
could no longer hide from himself their sinfulness, and 
the fearful retribution that awaits them. He now knows 
what he does, and knows whither he is hastening ; but 
has no strength of will to retrace his steps. There are 
multitudes also, who take their first step in a career of 
vice with the full consciousness of the vicious character 
and fatal issues of the path on which they are entering, 
yet cannot set their wills against the current of tempta- 
tion. The piously educated young man, who yields for 
the first time to the enticement of dissolute companions, 
is as sure at that moment, as he will be at the day of 
judgment, that he is sinning against God and his own 
soul; but his will is lame, — he cannot keep his feet 
from the way of transgressors. Almost every one will be 
ready to own, with regard to some one habit of his life : 
"I know that I ought to forsake it, but I have not the 
resolution so to do. " Our omissions of duty also are 
often omissions of acknowledged duty : the call of duty is 
distinctly heard, — conscience echoes it ; but there is as it 
were a contraction of the inward ear, a shutting out of 
the unwelcome sound from the region of our resolves and 
purposes. There are duties, which we deliberately recog- 
nize as duties, and confess that we are fully capable of 
discharging them ; but they come in conflict with a stub- 
born will, and are left unperformed. Indeed, those of us, 
who profess the faith and obedience of the gospel, are 
prone to take for our standard of character, not that of 
our knowledge or capacity, but that of a lame, indolent 
and self-indulgent will. We say to ourselves: "I will 
be content to reach such or such a degree of excellence, 
and in these and those respects to discharge my whole 
duty. I know indeed that my Saviour's example reaches 



J3 



vastly higher, that many of his followers have been much 
more conscientious and faithful, and that I have within 
me as large powers of duty, obedience and moral at- 
tainment, as any man has. But I have no will to do 
more or better. I can muster no strength of resolution 
for the effort to become among the chief and the greatest 
in the kingdom of heaven. " 

This then is man's great infirmity and disease, — a sus- 
pension of the power of right volition. I call it both an 
infirmity and a disease. It is an infirmity, so far as it is 
native, — an infirmity, for which in religion God has fur- 
nished ample remedies, in accordance with that beautiful 
law and harmony of nature, by which want and supply 
correspond to each other throughout the universe of mat- 
ter and of mind. It grows into a disease stubborn and 
malignant, when suffered to go unremedied, by the same 
law, by which every native deficiency, which we may 
supply and do not, becomes a prolific source of positive 
evil and sin. 

But you ask, Is not the human will then free 1- Let 
me ask, in reply, Is your will free ? You do what you 
will, — do you do all that you know to be essential for the 
discharge of your duty, and for the attainment of your 
highest good ? Or do you not in some respects see the 
right, and yet the wrong pursue ? And, if so, will you 
call your will free ? The will, which appetite intoxicates, 
which mammon bribes, which resentment arms with 
poisoned arrows, — do you call that will free? The will, 
which in the best of us sloth often binds, and habit makes 
a pliant slave, — has even Christ made it wholly free 1 

Still man is a free agent. But the seat of his moral 
freedom lies far behind those separate volitions that make 
up his daily life. Over these separate volitions we have, 
as I have shown you, no sure control. They obey the 
law, they follow the bent of the character. The will is 



but a secondary principle of the moral nature, — the soul's 
executive functionary, — not, as is commonly imagined, 
self-determining and independent. The will is not the 
character, but only the expression of it. In a moral point 
of view, volition and action are coincident ; and men's 
actions, and the volitions from which they spring, are 
bound, not indeed by any eternal decree of an arbitrary 
God, but by a necessity, which is the shadow of them- 
selves, — by a necessity, for which they themselves are 
accountable. When we say that man is a free agent, we 
do not mean that he can escape the influence of motives ; 
but that he can make choice among the various classes of 
motives. This choice, however, he seldom, perhaps never 
makes at the moment of final volition. He makes it in 
his seasons of retirement, reflection and reverie, in the 
day-dreams of youth, in the breathing-spells of business, 
in the intervals of pursuit or enjoyment. It is then that 
the spirits come and go at his bidding. Appetite, passion, 
gain, the love of Jesus, the will of God, all present them- 
selves as master principles of action, as the main-springs 
of life. Those that he dismisses return less and less 
frequently, and offer themselves with fainter and fainter 
voices. Those that he welcomes remain with him, go 
forth with him into active life, and constrain him to will 
and to do of their good pleasure. Thus the times, when 
we exert our moral freedom, are what we call the least 
active seasons of our lives. The times, when we can 
say, " I will," and our word is with power, are times, 
when we are unconscious of any effort of volition. The 
true effort of our free agency is not in those great emer- 
gencies, those outward crises, when we seem to summon 
up all our inward energy ; but it is in that still small 
voice, nay, that silent gesture of the soul, with which we 
beckon near or wave away the phantoms of good or evil. 
We are free then in our choice of motives. And what is 



L5 



motive 2 It is but another name for love. Paradoxical 
as the words may sound, it is our love that is free. It 
may attach itself to what or to whom we will. It has no 
law but that of familiar contemplation or intercourse. It 
attaches itself to the most loathsome and hateful objects 
when made familiar. It detaches itself from objects how- 
ever lovely or attractive, when for any reason we shun 
them, or leave them unthought of. Thus, in another 
sense than that of its supreme importance, is the com- 
mandment, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
thy heart," 'the first commandment. It is the easiest, it 
must be the first in order of time, and no other command- 
ment of religious duty can be obeyed as such, till this is 
obeyed. The affections govern the will, and control the 
life. Out of the abundance of the heart flow those pur- 
poses and volitions, which determine the conduct. The 
affections, then, must furnish the remedy for the infirm 
and diseased will. Religious love must strengthen and 
sanctify the will, and convert its lameness for all that is 
good into a blessed necessity of holy living, of duty and 
of progress. 

Now, in man's unregenerate state, his will is lame, 
because his love is cold. There is one conclusive indica- 
tion that the infirmity of the will flows from the lack of 
love. It is this : There is none of this infirmity, and no 
voluntary guilt towards the objects of a confessedly strong 
affection. No affectionate husband or father deliberately 
and voluntarily wounds the feelings, sacrifices the happi- 
ness, or neglects the well-being of his wife or children. 
On the other hand, how common is it to see men, who 
are unfair in their out of door dealings, ungenerous 
towards those not of their own households, unfaithful in 
public trusts, yet in all domestic cares and kindnesses 
exemplary and perfect, because in their own homes they 
love as they ought to ! You, my friends, who see much 



m 



towards God and man of duty, which you have had no 
energy of will to perform, and of transgression, which 
you have had no energy of will to resist, can yet look 
back upon no willing sin towards those under your own 
roof. There may indeed have been occasional bursts of 
anger or of peevishness, — there may have been instances 
of gross negligence, — there may be particular forms of 
care for their moral and religious good, to which you have 
been blind ; but these have been sins of impulse, of sur- 
prise, or of utter forgetfulness or ignorance. You never 
say to yourselves : "I ought to do this to make my wife 
happy, but I will not do it," — "I owe this to my chil- 
dren's characters and prospects, yet I will not make the 
effort or the sacrifice," — "I see very plainly what my 
family needs and demands of me, but I will content my- 
self with something very far short of this." Is it not 
clear then, that if, through the infirmity of your will, you 
fail to discharge your duties to the great family of man. 
and to God, their Father and your Father, it must be 
from lack of love to man and of love to God ? 

These considerations exhibit in strong light the shal- 
lowness of that rationalistic view of Christianity, already 
spoken of, which recognizes law and its sanctions, as the 
only essential elements of the Gospel. Law, of itself, is 
weak. A religion of mere law might instruct men : but 
could not urge or restrain them. He, who can preach 
nothing more than this, might as well preach among the 
tombs, as to living men. Those, who regard Christianity 
solely in this light, can hardly rise above a low average 
standard of duty. I doubt whether you can point to a 
single instance, in which one, who has thus regarded the 
gospel, has made any great effort or sacrifice for its sake. 
Philanthropists, missionaries, martyrs, have never had a 
purely rational religion. Nor did a purely rational reli- 
gion ever save a sufferer from repining, or fix a widow's 
or an orphan's heart in resignation and implicit trust, 



17 



Christianity is indeed a rational system, inasmuch as it 
excludes all mysticism and all absurdity, and teaches 
nothing, to which the reason yields not cordial assent. 
But it does much more than appeal to the reason. The 
peculiar sway of the Gospel is over the affections. The 
way, in which it seeks to control and sanctify the will, is 
indicated by the apostles in passages like these: " The 
love of Christ constraineth us ;" — u If God so loved us, we 
ought also to love one another;" — "He died for all, that 
they which live should not henceforth live unto them- 
selves, but unto him which died for them." The object 
of the whole Gospel economy is to fasten the affections, 
the gratitude, and the confidence of the human heart upon 
God and Jesus, and, through these omnipotent principles 
of action, to strengthen man's will for every effort and 
sacrifice that personal or social duty may demand. It is 
thus that the preaching of " Jesus Christ, and him cruci- 
fied," has been made all-powerful, insomuch that the 
spiritual well-being and growth of the Church have 
always borne a close proportion to the fidelity, with which 
the cross has been set forth as the great reconciling agent. 
It has been men constrained by the love of Christ, and 
such only, that have offered up their all, and not counted 
their lives dear, if in hardship, suffering and death, they 
might only win souls to Jesus. Read the history of those 
indefatigable and holy men, the French missionaries, who 
first bore the banner of the cross among the wigwams of 
our western wilderness, and gathered into the fold of 
Christ the wild wanderers of the forest. Numerous were 
the times, when, their little christian settlements being 
attacked by hostile tribes, they themselves might have 
escaped. But they would remain behind, to perform to 
the last every office of christian love for the wounded 
and the dying, and, while themselves expiring under the 
slow torture of Indian barbarity, gashed all over with 
3 



L8 



wounds, they would still pour forth, till the last gasp, the 
consolations of the Gospel to their fellow-sufferers, or 
expend all the energies of a dying man in telling their 
murderers of their Father and their Redeemer. And of all 
these martyr spirits it is recorded, that the love of Jesus 
was their unfailing theme of contemplation and discourse, 
that their solitary hours were spent in prayer and medita- 
tion by the cross, and that the thought, which sustained 
them, and urged them on to certain death, was, " He 
laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our 
lives for the brethren." 

What we need, to strengthen our infirm wills, and to 
inspire us to meet promptly the utmost demands of duty, 
is a love like that, with which those great men of God 
were filled, — a constraining love of our Savior and our 
Father. This need is amply met and supplied in the New 
Testament. How full is it throughout of the closest, the 
most imperative appeals to our affections ! Under how 
many tender and endearing images does it represent our 
heavenly Parent, as the compassionate shepherd, ranging 
the mountain pastures, to bring back the one wanderer to 
the fold, — as the kind father, going forth to fall upon the 
neck of the returning prodigal, — as calling upon all 
heaven to rejoice over the single repenting sinner ; — then, 
too, while he thus cares for man's spiritual good, as stoop- 
ing to the least details of his outward estate, nay, more, 
as upholding the wayfaring sparrow, and painting the 
lily's cup ! How nigh does Jesus bring the Father, as 
closer to man's heart than even his own plans and pur- 
poses, as perpetually waiting at the door of the human 
soul, with his counselling and guiding spirit, as watching 
for the first faint sigh of contrition, the first half-framed 
desire for inward light and peace ! 

Then, too, as how much more than a mere teacher is 
Jesus presented to us, as personally our friend and bene- 



19 



factor, — as one, who loved us and gave himself for us, 
who took upon himself the lowliest form and fortunes of 
earth, who bowed upon the cross, and expired in agony, 
that you, and I, and every one might look upon that 
cross, and say, " Herein is love! " And then, Jesus is set 
forth as still our intercessor and helper. While we for- 
get him, he forgets not us. In our worldliness and our 
guilt, his prayer goes up for us, his aid is proffered to us, 
his eye looks down upon us with ineffable pity and love. 

It is these portions of the Gospel, which it has become 
so common of late to regard and treat as not essential or 
permanent; and among those, who reverence the whole 
Gospel, as we have it, there has been too great a readi- 
ness to concede these points as of secondary moment. 
But if an infirm will be man's chief moral disease, then 
are those features of the Gospel, which set forth in the 
strongest relief the love of God and of Jesus, its most 
prominent and essential features. To my mind they con- 
stitute the peculiar excellence, the crowning glory of the 
Gospel. They furnish religion with its motive-power. 
They supply what man most of all needs, — something 
to bind his affections to the infinite and the heavenly. 
A religion of mere law would have been impotent, in 
proportion to its perfectness. The higher its standard of 
duty and obedience, the more paralyzing would it have 
been to the infirm will of man. " The law was given by 
Moses ; " but it was not enough till 1 • mercy and truth met 
together, " and together became incarnate in Jesus of 
Nazareth. By law alone is u the knowledge of sin, " and 
the consciousness of weakness; but, when the love of Je- 
sus dawns upon the heart, its language is, "I can do all 
things through Christ which strengtheneth me." 

If the train of thought, in which I have now led you, 
be just, it makes the awakening and the cultivation of the 
religious affections the first and chief aim to be had in 



20 



view, in the preaching of the Gospel. Brethren in the 
ministry, would you furnish and strengthen the souls 
committed to your charge for lives of duty and of piety? 
Bring them then into that intimate, familiar communion 
with God and Jesus, in which love may have its birth. 
Do you see them living as those, who have no love for God? 
Fix then their thoughts upon the multiplied tokens of his 
mercy. Trace out for them his smile in nature and hi 
the daily path of their pilgrimage. Above all, show 
them, as having yourselves beheld it with adoring admi- 
ration, "the glory of God in the face of Jesus. " Do you 
see them indifferent to the emblems, and seemingly stran- 
gers to the power of their Saviour's love? Bring home 
then the scenes of his life to their distinct view. Take 
them with you to the gates of Nain, to the young maid- 
en's death-chamber, to the sepulchre of Lazarus. Let 
them often go with you to the lone mountain of the Re- 
deemer's midnight supplication, to the garden of his 
agony. Paint for them with intense, earnest enthusiasm 
the benignant, godlike features of his spirit. Bow with 
them at the foot of the cross. There teach them to love. 
There strive to convert their languor into zeal, their cold- 
ness into a glowing fervour of soul. And then direct their 
vision to that unslumbering eye of interceding love, which 
looks on them from the heavens; and open their inward 
ear to the accents of that prayer, which flows for them 
at the right hand of the Majesty on high. Thus will you 
send your hearers home to meditate and pray. Thus, 
through your ministry, may they be inspired by a love, 
which shall subdue their wills, sanctify their lives, and 
save their souls. 

I have thus set forth what seems to me the great moral 
infirmity to be healed by the preaching of the Gospel, and 
the mode in which we, who preach the word, are to heal 
this infirmity. Our great work is to set forth the love of 



21 



God iii Christ Jesus. This is our peculiar province as 
christian ministers, and must ever be kept in view as the 
one aim, to which all others are to be made subservient. 
In this work we stand alone. In preaching law and its 
sanctions, we occupy no higher ground than the Rabbies 
of the ancient church. In performing the rites and ad- 
ministering the ordinances of the sanctuary, we stand 
upon the same platform with priests of every age and of 
every religion. What is peculiarly entrusted to us is 
"the ministry of reconciliation, — God in Christ recon- 
ciling the world unto himself." We then, as "ambas- 
sadors for Christ, as though God did beseech men by 
us," are to pray them "in Christ's stead," by his love, 
and by God's love in him, to be "reconciled to God." 
Thus, preaching in love the mediation, the cross, the in- 
tercession of Jesus, we may, by the divine blessing, real- 
ize for not a few of the souls, for whom he died, the 
apostle's prayer for his Thessalonian converts, which we 
would breathe anew for the shepherd and the flock, 
united by the solemnities of this day. "The very God 
of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your 
whole spirit, and soul, and body, be preserved blameless 
unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Faithful is 
he that calleth you, who also will do it. " 



CHARGE. 



BY REV. JASON WHITMAN. 



My Friend and Brother, — 

To me has been assigned the office, on this occasion, of 
presenting to you, in the form of a Charge, such hints in 
regard to the duties of the Ministerial and Pastoral rela- 
tion, as my experience and observation may have sug- 
gested. In doing this, I would say distinctly, that I do 
not claim in behalf of the Ecclesiastical Council, in whose 
name I speak, any authority over you, or any right, on 
our part, to dictate in regard to the opinions you may em- 
brace and preach, or the modes of ministerial labor you 
may adopt. In all your studies, in all your labors, you 
will cherish the feeling that you are accountable, not to 
any human authority, but simply to your own conscience 
and your God. You will not ask what this or that man 
may believe, in what manner this or that clergyman may 
conduct his ministerial and pastoral labors, with any other 
view than for the purpose of gathering hints, to aid you 
in your own efforts to arrive at a more full comprehension 
of the truth as it is in Jesus, and to adapt more success- 
fully your labors to your circumstances. You will, with 
singleness of purpose, ever seek for truth, ever follow 
duty. But while I disclaim all authority over you, I 
would indulge the hope that you will kindly receive the 



24 



suggestions in regard to the duties of the office you this 
day take upon you, which, in the exercise of sincere 
friendship, I shall frankly offer. 

And now, my hrother, will you fix your mind's eye 
distinctly upon the position you are hereafter to occupy in 
the community? You are to stand up in this place, and 
before this people, you are to go forth in this community, 
not merely as a man of literature and science, not merely 
as a philosopher or a philanthropist, but as an ambassador 
of Christ, a herald of the Cross, a preacher of the Gospel. 
First, then, direct your attention to your position as a 
preacher. What shall you preach? Look at the congre- 
gation of your hearers. There may be among them the 
wealthy, the learned, the fashionable. But they are all 
sinners before God, and, unless they become reconciled to 
him through Christ Jesus, are exposed to the dread conse- 
quences of their transgression of his holy laws. And 
neither will their wealth, their learning, or their fashion, 
save them from sin, or from its unhappy consequences. 
" There is," saith the apostle. " salvation in none other 
than Christ ; for there is none other name under heaven 
given among men, whereby we must be saved." Then 
look at yourself. As a literary or scientific man, you 
have your own opinions upon the philosophical specula- 
tions of the day. But you have felt yourself a sinner 
before God, and you have found that no literary or scien- 
tific attainments, that no opinions upon philosophical 
speculations, have been to you the power of God unto 
salvation, the instruments of your regeneration and spir- 
itual renewal of heart. For this, you are indebted to the 
power of gospel truth, and the influences of God's holy 
spirit. You will then preach to others, that which has been 
the power of God unto salvation to yourself. And as an 
ambassador of Christ, you will, with Paul, determine not 
to know any thing among your people, save Jesus Christ 



25 



and him crucified. You will not enter this place, that you 
may interest and entertain your hearers with your own 
philosophical speculations ; that you may exhibit yourself, 
your talents and learning. You will seek to awaken 
your hearers to a deep interest in spiritual things, and, 
when you have done so, to bring them to Jesus, — and there 
you will leave them, to gather, from their communion with 
him, that spiritual strength, of which you have found 
such communion a prolific source. You will not be over- 
anxious to present new, striking, and startling views, but 
will direct your hearers to Christ, as not only the author, 
but the finisher of our faith. Nor will you want variety 
in your topics of discourse. In rightly dividing the word 
of truth, you will look again at the assembly of your 
hearers. There are among them the careless and the in- 
different, who are to be aroused : there are the timid to 
be encouraged, the doubting and inquiring to be guided, 
the ignorant to be instructed, the afflicted to be consoled, 
and those, who are pressing on after high attainments in 
the divine life, to be aided in their course. You will seek 
to bring a word in season, as occasion may require, to each 
of these classes. You will, at one time, present the sol- 
emn truths of the Gospel ; at another you will urge its 
soul-stirring appeals. Now you will present the anima- 
ting disclosures, and now the consoling hopes, and soul- 
sustaining promises of the Gospel. You will seek to reach 
the conscience, to warm the heart, to influence the con- 
duct. You will then preach Christ, in all the variety of 
manifestations, in which he has become unspeakably dear 
to your own soul. You will strive to interest your hearers, 
not merely in yourself, but in Christ, and in yourself only 
that you may exert the more influence in leading them to 
him, — in persuading them to consecrate themselves to the 
service of God, in a life of obedience to the instructions 
of Jesus. 

4 



26 



How shall you preach? Look again at the Gospel in 
its relation to your own soul. It is to you the very life of 
your spiritual man, the source of your highest present 
joy, the foundation of all your hopes for eternity. Con- 
sider what you yourself would he without the Gospel, 
deprived of its instructions, its promises, its hopes. When 
you have dwelt upon this view until your whole heart is 
alive, when you have mused until the fire burns within 
you, then look upon your brothers or your sisters, the com- 
panions of your early years, bound to you by the strong 
ties of affection, but who yet have no deep interest in 
spiritual things, no conscious experience of the power of 
gospel truth upon their hearts, who are strangers to its 
peace-giving, soul-sustaining promises : consider, too. that 
they are frail and mortal, liable at any moment to be cut 
off by death from the christian privileges which they now 
enjoy, and that your present may be your last opportu- 
nity to speak to them upon any subject. Dwell upon this 
view until your heart yearns for their spiritual regenera- 
tion, until you can scarce restrain yourself from pouring 
out your soul to God in prayer for them, that they may 
be saved. In this state of feeling, frame, in your own 
mind, an address to them in behalf of religion, in behalf 
of their own souls, their spiritual and eternal welfare. 
If, under such circumstances, and in such a state of feel- 
ing, you were to address a letter to a brother or a sister, 
upon the subject of religion, would it not be simple, direct 
and earnest, but, at the same time, kind and affectionate? 
If, under such circumstances, and in such a state of feel- 
ing, you were to speak to a brother or a sister, upon the 
subject of religion, it would not be in pompous and hol- 
low declamation, — it would not be in a dull, prosy, formal 
manner. No. You would speak with direct and affec- 
tionate earnestness. But the congregation are your brethren 
and sisters. — many of them, it may be, utterly indifferent 



to spiritual things : others, anxiously inquiring what they 
shall do to be saved ; others, still, asking for spiritual food, 
that their souls may grow in christian graces. Then, too, 
they are frail and mortal. Each discourse you deliver 
may be to some of them the last they will hear on earth. 
You, too, are frail and mortal. Each discourse you preach, 
you will feel, may be your last. The sabbath dawns ; 
you have sought, by study and by prayer, to prepare 
for its approach. You will feel that it is one of the most 
important seasons that can be enjoyed. To yourself, as 
an ambassador of Christ, it is important, affording you 
an opportunity for advancing the Redeemer's kingdom. 
To your hearers, as spiritual beings, it is important, 
affording them an opportunity to establish and build up 
the kingdom of God in their own hearts. You will then 
speak to them as a brother, with all a brother's affectionate 
entreaty, with all a brother's earnest remonstrance, but as 
a brother, to whom the Gospel is dearer than life, and 
desirous that they too should have sweet experience of 
all the purifying, elevating, life-giving influences, which 
you have yourself derived from this never-failing foun- 
tain. You will strive so to speak, that your hearers, 
when they retire, shall think not so much of the man or 
the manner, as of God, his law, and his love, — of Christ, 
his labors, instructions, and sufferings— of themselves, 
their natures and destinies, — their obligations and du- 
ties, — their sins and deficiences. You will strive so to 
speak, that your hearers shall retire, not to praise the 
preacher, but to pray for themselves. If, then, you ask 
what and how you shall preach, my answer is one and 
the same,— seek to become so absorbed in the truths of the 
christian religion, and in the spiritual interests of your 
flock, as to forget yourself. Preach Christ, as one who 
would win souls, and then will you so preach, as to ap- 
prove yourself to your own conscience, and your God, 



28 

But a christian minister is not only a preacher, he is 
also a pastor. Direct your thoughts then, in the second 
place, to your position as a pastor. Your pastoral labors 
lie principally in your week-day visits to the people of 
your charge. And what should be the object, at which 
you should aim in these parochial calls? Pastoral visit- 
ing should not be merely social visiting. This may be 
necessary at first, and until you become in some degree 
acquainted with your people. For they must feel ac- 
quainted with you before they can speak to you freely 
upon religious subjects. But you will regard even this mere 
social visiting as preliminary and preparatory to some- 
thing higher, and more important. Nor is pastoral vis- 
iting to become parlour preaching, where the minister 
delivers a set and formal discourse. Nor yet is it to be 
regarded simply as an opportunity where you may talk 
over parish matters or denominational prospects. I may 
be peculiar in my views, but I regard parochial visiting 
as important, especially, because it affords the pastor an 
opportunity of becoming intimately acquainted with the 
precise state of feelings, upon the subject of religion, of 
the people of his charge. As a christian minister, what 
more important to you, than a knowledge of the states of 
feeling among your people upon the subject of religion, 
that you may know how to meet them, and so become to 
them a more efficient preacher? If any are indifferent, 
you wish to know the causes of their indifference, or the 
particular form which, in each individual case, it may 
assume, so that you may know how to arouse them. If 
any are inquiring or doubting, you wish to know the 
precise point of their inquiries, the particular doubts by 
which they are troubled, so that you may the more easily 
guide them in the way of truth. This knowledge you 
can acquire only by free social religious communion with 
them. And the importance of this will appear from the 



29 



thought, that, as you are thus free in your religious com- 
munion, you may often, in a few moments' conversation, 
remove doubts, which you might not reach in the public 
discourses of a whole year. Bear it in mind, then, that 
the principal object of pastoral visiting is to become inti- 
mately acquainted with the state of feeling among your 
parishioners upon the subject of religion, in order that 
you may the better meet their religious wants in your 
private conversations, and in your public discourses. 

But how is this object to be accomplished? Here is, I 
fear, the point where we fail. We feel the importance of 
the object, we earnestly desire to accomplish it, And yet 
the result of our efforts does not answer our expectations 
or satisfy our desires. We have this intimate spiritual 
acquaintance with some few of our parishioners: and 
with them our pastoral intercourse is delightful and profit- 
able, profitable to them, profitable to ourselves. But is 
not the number with whom we have such intercourse too 
limited ? I fear that we are too timid in introducing the 
subject of religion in our private calls. I well remember 
that, when I entered the christian ministry, I felt that my 
parishioners, regarding me as a christian minister, and 
having reason to suppose that I should be glad to con- 
verse with them upon the subject of religion, would, of 
their own accord, open their hearts to me, and make 
known to me their feelings, their interest, their doubts 
and anxieties: but my own experience has taught me 
that it is not so. Even with those, who are deeply inter- 
ested upon the subject of religion, and who are in reality 
longing to speak with their pastor in regard to their feel- 
ings, there is often a degree of diffidence and a delicate 
sensitiveness, which will prevent them from speaking of 
their own accord. Then, too, they regard this as a part 
of the minister's appropriate duty. They hear him ur- 
ging upon their attention from the pulpit the importance 



30 



of religion, and they expect that, when he may call upon 
them during the week, he will speak to them upon the 
same subject. But it is not enough to speak in general 
terms upon the subject ; direct interrogatories, in regard to 
their particular interest and peculiar feelings, are often 
necessary. Let me relate a single incident from my own 
ministerial experience. On a certain occasion I ques- 
tioned a lady of my congregation, kindly, but directly 
and earnestly, in regard to the state of her mind and feel- 
ings upon the subject of religion; she was deeply inter- 
ested, and needed but a word of counsel and encourage- 
ment to induce her to make an open profession of her 
faith. As I afterwards met her, she asked me how I 
happened to speak to her upon the subject, at the time 
and in the manner I did. For, said she, I had been long- 
ing for months to speak with you upon the subject of 
religion, and especially to make known to you my newly 
and deeply awakened feelings ; but such were the diffi- 
culties I found in the way, that I should have gone to 
my grave without ever having done so. had you not di- 
rectly questioned me upon the subject. I had seen that 
lady frequently during those months, had conversed with 
her upon other topics, and even upon the subject of reli- 
gion had we conversed in general terms. But I had not 
spoken to her directly in regard to the interest which she 
herself felt in the subject. I mention this incident, simply 
as an illustration of what I believe to be the very general 
feeling of our parishioners upon this subject. The great 
majority of them will never introduce the subject of their 
own religious interest themselves. They expect their 
pastor to speak to them, and they will wait for this. This 
is one view of the subject ; take another. If you were to 
come to this place as the agent of the Peace Society, or 
any similar benevolent association, and were to spend a 
few weeks in calling round upon the people, you would 



81 



introduce the subject directly, you. would speak of its im- 
portance in general terms, and then you would converse 
freely with those, on whom you might call, in regard to 
their views, opinions and feelings in relation to it. And 
you would do this, in order to know better how to meet 
their peculiar state of feelings, either in your public ad- 
dresses or your private conversations. You would not 
converse always upon the particular subject of your 
agency, you would not introduce it abruptly at improper 
times and places, you would converse freely and plea- 
santly upon the various topics that might arise; but you 
would not forget that you were an agent of a benevolent 
association. You would be constantly on the watch for 
appropriate opportunities, on which to introduce the sub- 
ject, and advance the interests of the association whose 
agent you were. And is not this an appropriate illus- 
tration 1 You come to this place as an agent of the Gos- 
pel, of that benevolent association and institution, which 
commenced with Jesus Christ and his apostles. Your 
object therefore should be to promote the interests of the 
Gospel, to advance the Redeemer's kingdom. As you go 
about among your people, you will show yourself the in- 
telligent and kind-hearted gentleman, and, as such, you will 
converse freely and socially upon the various common 
topics of the day. But you will not forget that you are a 
herald of the Gospel, an ambassador of the Cross. You 
will, therefore, watch for all appropriate opportunities to 
introduce religious conversation. And when these oppor- 
tunities occur, you will not only speak of the importance, 
of religion in general terms, but will seek to ascertain 
precisely the degree of interest your parishioners may feel 
upon the subject, the peculiar doubts and difficulties they 
may have met with, the particular counsel, encourage- 
ment or instruction they may need. And let me assure 
you, my brother, that pastoral visiting, if it aim at the 



32 



object and is conducted upon the principle suggested, will 
become, both to yourself and to the people of your charge, 
a source of pleasure and of profit. You will acquire an 
intimate acquaintance with the religious condition and 
wants of your people. Your soul will be refreshed, as 
you go among them, by free and holy spiritual com- 
munion, and you will be aided in the selection of sub- 
jects for your discourses adapted to their peculiar wants. 
Your people will value your visits as seasons of spiritual 
refreshing, will look forward to them with heartfelt in- 
terest, and back upon them with great satisfaction. They 
will be strengthened in their purposes and helped onward 
in their course by 3^0111* conversations, and will be pre- 
pared by them for listening more profitably to your pub- 
lic instructions. 

Finally, my brother, as you look abroad upon the com- 
munity in which you are placed, you will see some who 
are vicious and abandoned : these you will wish to re- 
claim. You will see others, who are only nominally Chris- 
tians: these you will wish to elevate into real and prac- 
tical Christians. Then too you will see the great mass of 
those who are really Christians, falling far below the true 
standard of christian character, set forth in the Gospel, 
and exhibited in the example of the Saviour ; these you 
will wish to urge onward to the full stature of perfect 
men in Christ Jesus. It may be that you will find those, 
who will hail you with joy, as the preacher of a liberal 
faith, whose only idea of liberality is, that it consists in 
utter indifference or bitter opposition to every thing like 
serious and earnest devotion to spiritual things. They 
will listen to you with pleasure, so long as you will con- 
tend with those who differ from you, or entertain them 
with interesting speculations, but will grow indifferent to 
your appeals, or will turn from you to what they may 
call more liberal preaching, as soon as you rebuke their 



33 



particular sins, and say, thou art the man ; these you will 
seek to awaken to an interest in religion, as the life of the 
inward man, the joy and peace of the soul. And how 
are these desirable objects to be accomplished'? I answer, 
by breathing yourself the spirit you wish to have prevail 
around you. We depend, I think, too much upon the 
power of intellect, and the strength of argument, and too 
little upon the silent, but efficient influence of sympathy. 
A man may argue unanswerably, and persuade most elo- 
quently, from the pulpit, in behalf of a serious and earnest 
devotion of heart and life to the service of God, and yet 
he may be so light and trifling in his daily conduct, as to 
destroy the influence of his public exhortations. I would 
not have a minister assume a long face, and utter himself 
in solemn tones, because he is a minister, but I would 
have him seek, most earnestly, to become, in all respects, 
what he exhorts his hearers to become. Do you exhort 
your hearers to seriousness and earnestness in their reli- 
gious life? Let your exhortations be impressed upon 
their minds by the thought that you are yourself the 
serious and earnest Christian you are entreating them to be- 
come. Do you urge them on to high attainments in chris- 
tian goodness ? Let your own earnest efforts after high 
attainments enforce the exhortation you give. Do you 
commend to your people the various christian graces, 
meekness, humility, zeal, a government of the passions, 
a devotion of heart and life to spiritual things ? Let the 
correspondence of your own conduct with your exhorta- 
tions be the strongest recommendation you give to these 
virtues and graces. There is a sympathy of heart with 
heart, through the power of which one earnest, devoted 
spirit affects the whole mass. Seek then, my brother, to 
become yourself, in all respects, what, as a christian min- 
ister, you exhort others to become, to breathe the spirit 
you would have others breathe, to exhibit the temper you 
5 



34 



would have others exhibit, to live the life you exhort 
others to lead. 

I have confined the hints I have offered, my brother, to 
three distinct topics, — your pulpit services, your pastoral 
labors, and your christian character. I have felt, that 
with this people is your sphere of labor, that this is the 
portion of Christ's vineyard that is committed to your 
care, that you are placed here, not that you may look 
abroad, as from an eminent position, upon the whole 
world, and labor in every enterprise that may be started 
for the good of any portion of the family of man, but that 
you may be instrumental in leading this particular peo- 
ple to Christ, in building up in this place, and in the hearts 
of those who have asked you to labor among them, the 
kingdom of the Master you have undertaken to serve. 
And I have felt that if, among this people, you become the 
efficient preacher, the successful pastor, and exhibit a 
christian example worthy of their imitation, you will ac- 
complish more for the cause of Christ than you could in 
any other way. I have dwelt upon details: for I well 
remember, that, when I entered the christian ministry, 
there were many to point out the general principles by 
which I should be governed, while there were but few, 
who would aid me in the details of my labors, by fur- 
nishing me with the results of their own experience and 
observation. The hints which I have offered are the 
promptings of my own experience and observation. You 
can judge for yourself of their value, and will estimate 
them according to their worth. And now, my brother, 
go forth to your work in the spirit of your xMaster, la- 
boring diligently in your vocation of planting and water- 
ing, while you pray fervently that God would give the 
increase. Go in the exercise of a living faith in the truths 
you preach, and with unswerving confidence in God. 
And may his spirit accompany you, and his blessing be 
upon you ! 



RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP. 



BY REV. JOSEPH ANGIER. 



It is a pleasant duty, my christian brother, which, at 
your request, the Council has assigned to me, as the 
organ of these assembled churches, to welcome you to 
their fellowship, and to the brotherhood of their minister- 
ing servants — and to assure you of the fraternal interest 
with which we hail your accession to the christian minis- 
try. 

The solemn consecration of a young man to the sacred 
office, is an occasion which appeals, and not all in vain, 
to the sympathies of every christian heart. And yet, I 
suppose that very few appreciate, — how can they, to 
any thing like its full extent, — the thrilling, absorbing in- 
terest of the occasion to his own heart. With whatever 
feelings some may regard these ceremonies of ordination, 
I know, and these brethren know, that to him who is 
thus inducted into an office of such solemn responsibility, 
they are anything but an empty and unmeaning pageant. 
With whatever sensibility you may heretofore have re- 
volved the various experience that awaits you in this 
ministry, it bears but a faint comparison with the tumul- 
tuous rush of feeling, which seems to crowd the emotional 
experience of years almost into these few brief but solemn 
hours. I know that your heart must be full, throbbing. 



36 



trembling, aching almost, even while rejoicing, under its 
burthen of freshly awakened and strangely mingled sen- 
sibilities. And, therefore, though my acquaintance with 
you has been neither long nor intimate, yet be assured, 
that it is with sympathies, on that account, scarcely less 
alive, animated by the memory of a similar experience, 
never to be forgotten, that I proffer to you, in behalf of 
the churches, and in my own behalf, this right hand, and 
take you to our christian fellowship and love. Accept it 
as a sincere expression of our interest and regard, — as a 
token of the full and cordial sympathy, and trust, with 
which we receive and welcome you to a participation in 
the arduous cares and precious rewards of our holy and 
venerated profession. Receive it as a pledge, that we 
will ever look with fraternal interest upon your success 
and happiness — and that so long as you remain true, (as 
we doubt not you ever will,) to conscience, to Christ, to 
God, to the souls entrusted to your care, you shall receive 
from us ready sympathy and aid, in all time of desire and 
need; and God help us to remember and redeem the 
pledge. 

We congratulate ourselves, my brother, and give 
thanks to God, that he has put it in your heart, to de- 
vote yourself to the ministry of reconciliation. We rejoice 
in the belief that your heart is in the work, and in the 
earnest you have already given that you will become a 
good and faithful minister of Jesus Christ. 

And we congratulate you also, upon the choice you 
have made. The office to which you are now set apart, 
is indeed a laborious and trying one. But its labors and 
trials are rendered sacred and dear by thoughts of the 
fellowship to which they introduce us, though unworthy, 
with the great head of the church, who underwent such 
labor and anguish, in behalf of a sinful world, who was 
himself "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." 



37 



You have counted the cost. You are prepared, I pre- 
sume, for many and peculiar trials of mind and heart. 
You anticipate no easy, however grateful task, no holy- 
day pastime, in preparing to meet your people, sabbath 
after sabbath, with arguments that shall convince, and 
thoughts that shall interest, animate, and instruct, as well 
as tones and words to warn, admonish, and reprove. And 
we cannot assure you, that there will not be moments 
when your spirit will reel and faint almost under its 
weight of anxious responsibility. Nor can we cherish for 
you any very confident hope that your heart shall not 
often be pained, by the insensibility and caprice of some, 
for whose benefit, would they but be benefited, you 
would rejoice to spend and be spent, and by the luke- 
warmness and indifference of others, from whom you 
may now expect the most hearty sympathy, and the most 
earnest and steadfast cooperation in the great work which 
they have invited you to undertake. 

But let me not dwell upon the more sombre features of 
your possible experience, but hasten rather to reverse the 
picture, and congratulate you upon the privileges and re- 
wards of your profession ; for they outweigh, again and 
again, and still thrice again, all its hardships and sor- 
rows, great and peculiar as they are. You have not 
erred, my brother, in your estimation of this office, 
if you have expected to find in it a ministry of joy, 
and of loftiest satisfactions. First and chief, the 
thought that it is your especial and daily vocation to 
study, and think, and toil, and watch, for the good of 
souls, — for the advancement, not of the perishing interests 
of time and sense, but of the substantial and enduring 
interests of the mind and heart, — for the recovery, improve- 
ment, and salvation of our spiritual and immortal nature, 
the object dearest to God, and the office borne and hal- 
lowed by the Son, whom the Father sanctified and sent ; 



38 



this thought has already inspired your heart, and animat- 
ed it with its quickening and blessed influence. We have 
only to ask for you that its power shall not abate but 
strengthen with time and experience, and seldom can you 
be subject to the dissatisfaction and weariness which must 
fasten often and long upon the mind which seeks and 
labors only for the meat that perisheth; the vapid pleas- 
ures and cheating glories of this transitory world. 

And in the pursuit of this high and beneficent task, it is 
to be your privilege, every sabbath, to declare from this 
and other pulpits, the messages of God to his people : to 
pour into the minds and hearts of your brethren the best 
thoughts of your own mind, and the deepest, most devout 
and cherished feelings of your own heart. It is a privi- 
lege which we are confident you now prize in some meas- 
ure as it ought to be prized, as it must be prized, by every 
one who is not unworthy to direct the thoughts and lead 
the devotions of a christian assembly. Happy, (and in 
saying this I trust that I do not violate the spirit, though 
I may seem to depart somewhat from the form of this 
service,) thrice happy, if familiarity and use, as they ma- 
ture your powers, and enrich your resources, and facilitate 
your labors, increase, instead of diminishing your estima- 
tion of this privilege, and your desire and effort to be 
worthy of it, making full proof of your ministry. Happy, 
if its influence shall pursue you through every day and 
hour of the week, attend you in your closet, inspire your 
devotions, inform and direct your studies, and never en- 
tirely forsake you even in the familiar intei course of daily 
and social life. Then the pulpit will become indeed your 
C£ joy and throne." You will come before your people, re- 
joicing in the fulness of the blessing of the Gospel of Christ. 
With whatever sense of feebleness and insufficiency you 
may sometimes be compelled to perform your public minis- 
trations, there will be no mingling of shame or self-reproach, 



39 



from the reflection that you have not duly magnified your 
office in your preparatory studies and discipline, and daily 
draughts from the original fount of inspiration. And 
often, most often, I trust, your heart will glow with grati- 
tude and joy, that you have not unworthily, not all 
ineffectually spoken upon the theme of the great salva- 
tion, — touching chords of piety, enthusiasm, and love, 
that shall continue to vibrate with happy and blessed 
emotions, and holy resolutions, long after your voice is 
silent, and its echo only remains in the deep places of 
many an earnest, affectionate and penitent heart. I pre- 
sume, my brother, that you now duly estimate this privi- 
lege, and if faithful, you ever will. You will feel it to be 
reward enough, and more than enough, for whatever toil 
and anguish of spirit you may sometimes have to undergo, 
that you are permitted to be a student of God's truth, and 
its interpreter to the souls of your fellow-men; to be an 
instrument in his hand, of strengthening their sympathy 
with spiritual realities — chastening their affections for 
outward and material things — and increasing their thirst, 
and quickening their efforts after a more intimate, refined, 
and spiritual joy. 

At the risk of saying more than enough, I will venture 
to allude, though it must be scarcely more than a mere 
allusion, to one or two other privileges connected with the 
office you have assumed, — the calm meditative seclusion 
of the closet, — "the still air of delightful studies" and devo- 
tion, in which much of your time must be spent, that you 
may come to your people here, and at their homes, duly pre- 
pared to edify and instruct, showing yourself approved 
unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed; 
and last, not least, the pleasure of free, confiding and 
affectionate intercourse with the people of your charge, 
feeling that your relation to each other is one of purest 
friendship, founded upon no worldly interests, inspired by 



40 



no selfish aims, but deriving its birth and nourishment 
from the objects of your connexion and your mutual in- 
terest in the purely spiritual service, which it is your 
duty and privilege to render, and theirs to receive. 

Far be it from me to utter one word of exaggeration, to 
raise in your heart false and delusive hopes, by asserting 
aught, which has not been realized in experience. I 
frankly confess to all the hardships and trials of the pas- 
toral office. They are neither few nor light. And I hope 
that you will ever find among your people a just appreci- 
ation of your intentions, and a considerate regard for 
your feelings — paying due respect to your views of duty in 
this relation. But, after all, I can say to you with the ut- 
most confidence, that you will find in the pastoral relation, 
pleasures and satisfactions, that vastly more than counter- 
balance all the trials which attend it. And many of these 
trials, if you suitably improve them, you will find to be 
blessings in disguise, furnishing that discipline to the heart 
and character, which is indispensable to the full apprecia- 
tion and enjoyment of the christian pastor's duties. 

I congratulate you, therefore, that you are to go in and 
out among this people, as their friend and brother, — their 
friend and brother, in the highest and best sense that 
attaches to these relations. I can express for you no bet- 
ter wish — I can offer for you and with you, no kinder 
petition, than that as friends and brethren you may ever 
love them, even as Christ loved his own, — that like him, 
if such things must be, you may gently bear with their 
prejudices, laying not bitterly to heart their caprices, and 
overlooking and forgiving in them, whatever may seem 
inconsiderate and unkind; — and that as their christian 
brother and soul's friend, they may ever regard and cher- 
ish yow, " esteeming you very highly in love for your 
work's sake," reposing too much confidence in your 
christian sincerity and fidelity, and cherishing too much 



41 



tenderness for your feelings, and too much delicacy and 
self-respect on their own part, to trouble you or them- 
selves with hasty surmises and captious complaints of 
disaffection and neglect. With confidence and regard 
thus mutually preserved and cherished, many and great 
are the satisfactions that await you in the more familiar 
and intimate relations of the pastoral office. 

And now, my brother, let me trust that it may prove a 
word in season, both to you and ourselves, if I say to you 
in the animating words of one, who, in noble and fitting 
terms, has set forth the spirit and dignity of the office 
with which you are now clothed, that ' 1 the immediate 
tasks of this profession are clothed with interest far too 
strong to be expressed in any abstract or formal manner. 
It is not, to our apprehension, the formal or merely official 
life, that many are disposed to consider it : it is not mere- 
ly to solemnize marriages, or to attend funerals, or to pay 
visits of official condolence, or to pay any other visits of 
an artificial character : it is not to preach dull sermons, in 
a dull, hum-drum manner, as if it were a work to be done 
according to contract. No ! in the name of every thing 
sacred and interesting, let us say no. Let public opinion 
say no : and demand of this profession all the energies of 
intellectual and spiritual life. Let clerical practice say 
no, with a spirit and tone that none can mistake. Let 
every mind pledged to this office, leap to its work, as at 
the voice of a trumpet, — as at the call of country, and 
kindred, and brotherhood, — as at the summons-call for 
all the energy, and enthusiasm, and heroism, that are in 
human nature. Is there power? Is there gentleness? 
Is there love? Is there eloquence? Is there an aim 
soaring to heaven ? — This is a sphere for them all ; broad, 
ample, infinite, we were ready to say : but deep, too ; 
deeply searching and interesting, far beyond the measure 
of all ordinary pursuits. 
6 



42 



With this animating view, and thrilling summons, to 
the duties of the office with which you are now invested, 
I end my congratulations — once more welcoming you to 
it, with this symbol of the fellowship, which we alike ask 
and tender. Welcome to an office, if, in some respects, 
the most arduous and trying, yet the noblest also, and 
the most beneficent to which man can be called. Welcome 
to its peculiar toils and sorrows, rewarded by peculiar and 
sublime satisfactions ! — Welcome, and God bless you ! 
God bless you and this people, — you in them and them 
in you. May his word, uttered by you in simple earnest- 
ness and faith, " in the spirit of power, and of love, and 
of a sound mind," never return unto you void, but abun- 
dantly prosper in that whereto it is sent : may you win 
the hearts of many, yea, all, to the love and obedience of 
Christ, and receive at last the joyful benediction, " W~ell 
done, good and faithful servant ; thou hast been faithful 
over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things ; 
enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 



ADDRESS TO THE SOCIETY. 



BY REV. FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM. 



The minister ordained and admonished of his duties, 
it is right that the people should now be reminded of 
theirs. It cannot but be highly gratifying to my feelings, 
that, through your committee, you should have requested 
me to address you on this occasion. On many accounts, 
too, it seems a fit selection. Who should know so well 
as I of what advice you stand in need ; against what 
faults you are to be warned ; what are your peculiar 
difficulties and dangers ? 

And yet the very circumstances that point me out as 
the fit person for the discharge of this duty, tend likewise 
to embarrass me in the performance of it. We are too 
well acquainted. There is danger that what I say, may 
seem to have too close an application to the particular 
case. And, though we may submit to be told of our faults 
by our friends, we do not like to be lectured before stran- 
gers. It is perhaps well then for me to disclaim, in the 
outset, any such intention. I propose and wish to divest 
myself of all special associations with you, and say only 
what might be equally applicable to any congregation — 
what is every where and undeniably true. I beg that I 
may be understood as not making any allusion, in what I 
shall say, to the past relations between you and me. 



44 



1. And in the first place, I think it important every 
where to guard against an impression, which the exercises 
of this occasion often have a tendency to create or 
strengthen, as if the whole responsibility in this relation, 
were to rest on the minister ; as if he were responsible for 
your souls. Responsible for your souls ! Who could be 
found to undertake the office, if he really had to answer 
for a single living soul ! No, the minister has his duty to 
perform, and it is a high and solemn duty ; but that con- 
scientiously done, he has nothing more to answer for. 
The rest is for you to do. You must work out your own 
salvation. Salvation is an individual, personal, work, 
to be done in the still watches of the night, in your 
hours of reflection, in your daily thoughts, a work to be 
lived. It will not do for you to ascribe your coldness, in- 
difference, want of devotion, to your minister. It may 
be in some part his fault, but it is far more yours. He 
cannot pray for you. He cannot think for you. He can- 
not live for you. He can sow the seed, but it is for you 
to water and protect, and bring the fruit to perfection. 
He can lead you to the fountain of living water, but he 
cannot make you drink. 

This, then, is the first thing to be urged upon you. Do 
not let any thing, or every thing, that has been said here 
to-day, mislead you for a moment into thinking that you 
are to be saved by another's means. You have a great, a 
momentous, work to do for yourself. It is very possible 
that a new voice may give you a new impulse. It may 
be that this is a new call of God's providence upon you, 
to lead more than ever a religious life, to secure a religious 
faith. You ought to look upon it as such. What new 
relation can be entered into, without bringing with it new 
thoughts of duty and responsibility, to those who think at 
all ! But still it is only an impulse — only an invitation. 
It is for you to obey — to accept it. 



2. And 1 am thus led naturally to say, in the second 
place, that neither, in other respects, must you expect all 
from your minister. His good influence, every where de- 
pends upon, and must be limited by, your cooperation. 
In much of what has been said here to-day, this must 
have occurred to you. The duties enjoined upon him, 
have all of them a corresponding duty, which might be 
enjoined on you. But I need not enter into the detail. 
Let me, however, dwell for a little, on one thing. You 
must not expect to find your minister without his faults. 
He is but a man, and like other men must have his im- 
perfections. Nay! must have them as the very conse- 
quence, the reverse side, the shadow, I may say, of his 
virtues. I mean that those very qualities which you like 
in him, must involve, (for it lies in human nature,) some 
deficiencies. A man cannot be every thing at once. And 
thus we find in ministers, that some are eminent in the 
pulpit, and some in the parlor: some are distinguished for 
eloquence, and some for goodness : some are bold and in- 
dependent, at the occasional risk of giving offence, and 
others, by their caution, preserve a happy and beneficial 
influence. I do not say that it is impossible that these 
different good qualities should be united. I only say that 
it is not to be expected. You must try to appreciate what 
you have paid for. It is to be remembered that, in induc- 
ing your minister to enter into this relation with you, 
rather than others which he might have formed, you have 
assumed a responsibility towards him. You are bound to 
make the best of him. You must guard against the 
weakness of expecting from him, what he never promised, 
and what you never saw. Try to look rather at his ex- 
cellencies than his deficiencies. Do not measure him by 
any received standard, but feel that there may be different 
ways of usefulness ; nor become dissatisfied that the man 
of your choice is what you chose, and not another. 



46 



3. But the great point of all, and that upon which the 
permanence of the connexion between a minister and his 
people, more than upon any thing, depends, still remains 
to be urged. It is, that you become acquainted with him. 
This I know you will at once respond to. " Yes ! it is that 
we want. A man who will be one of us : who will visit 
us day by day, and share with us our pleasures and our 
pains ; to whom we can go confidently, and with whom 
we can take sweet counsel." All this is very desirable, 
no doubt, but it is not yet what I mean. It is not ac- 
quaintance. You may go in and out, and meet and talk 
with your minister for years ; you may come here weekly, 
and listen to his words, and yet not really know him. 
You are not acquainted with him, till you know, and can 
share his thoughts. True acquaintance is of the mind. 
True interest is of spirit in spirit. You may be in closest 
contact with a man, and yet separated, for all purposes of 
real acquaintance, as if by oceans. 

But how then become thus acquainted ? Of course, 
partly and naturally, by familiar, personal, intercourse. 
This will at least prepare the way for the true acquaint- 
ance. A friendly feeling opens the ears to understand the 
voice of the preacher. But the great condition of perfect 
acquaintance, is that which I have already urged upon 
you. I mean personal cultivation and development ; and 
especially religious cultivation and development. With- 
out effort for this object, on your part, you will become 
more and more strangers to each other, instead of better 
acquainted. " The light shineth in darkness, and the 
darkness comprehendeth it not." And just in proportion 
as your minister is true to his duty, will this be the case. 
For if he is cultivating daily his religious sense, taking 
lessons of God's great providence, and listening to God's 
voice within him, he will go forward ; he will be in pro- 
gress, while you remain stationary. At this moment, it is 



47 



to be supposed, that there is a degree of correspondence 
between you. He has, it is to be presumed, spoken to 
your hearts, and your hearts have hailed his word, and 
you have prayed him to remain among you. Take heed 
that he does not grow strange to you, or you to him. 
Come hither, prepared to listen, with your whole hearts 
and minds. Strive to go onward with him. Let him not 
go up into the mount alone, lest he come back with his 
face shining, and, out of regard to your fears, be obliged 
to put a veil upon it. 

But I fear that I am trespassing on the time allotted to 
me. May-be I have already said too much. And yet I 
had many things still to say. There are several points of 
mere external observance, which I think every society 
needs occasionally to be reminded of. Yet, after all, it is 
needless to insist on them, if only you take the spirit of 
what I have been saying. Be truly acquainted with your 
minister, acquainted with his thought, and in love with 
it, and you will need no monitor to be all he could wish. 
His words will have an attraction you cannot resist. The 
recurring sabbath will be a holiday to you, and you will 
hang upon his lips, as on the lips of an angel. Any thing 
you can do for his convenience and comfort, will be done 
with alacrity, and the good seed he sows in your hearts 
will spring up, and bear fruit, some thirty, some sixty, 
and some an hundred fold. 

And now, my friends, I bid you God speed. I said that 
I should endeavor, in speaking to you, to lay aside the 
consciousness of our past connexion with each other, and 
to speak as I would to any other people. But could I do 
it ? Is it possible ? You, with whom, and for whom, I 
so long have prayed — with whom, for years, I have shar- 
ed sorrows, joys, thoughts — could I stand among you, 
even for these few moments, as a stranger ! It cannot be. 
We are no strangers, nor ever can be. Providence leads 



48 



men into new and unforeseen relations, but, once entered 
into, their influence upon us is enduring. The past is 
eternal, as well as the future. You are different, for your 
connexion with me, from what you would have been, and 
I, for my connexion with you. Then, as your once-min- 
ister, and always-friend, in memory of that hour, not 
so long past, in which I stood here, and the blessing of 
heaven was invoked upon our connexion, let me pray God 
to bless you in this new one. May it prove all you antici- 
pate ! You do not need any further admonition from me. 
I have said what I thought most needed. I know that in 
essentials you will be a kind and a grateful people. God 
grant that you may find, in this new relation, the food 
your souls need : that they may grow into full strength, 
and be prepared for the trials of this life, and the progress 
of that we look forward to. " The Lord bless you, and 
keep you. The Lord make his face shine upon you, and 
be gracious unto you. The Lord lift up the light of his 
countenance upon you, and give you peace !' 5 



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